Throne of Glass: Girl in the Iron Mask
by RichardJ
Summary: Aelin Galathynius has surrendered to Maeve, the Fae Queen. Now she must endure the cruel queen's torments while she tries to recover her magic power. Succeed and she can make Maeve regret ever tangling with Aelin; fail and Aelin will condemn herself and many others to years of slavery. A dark fantasy sequel to Sarah J. Maas's Empire of Storms. Not for the faint hearted.
1. Journey to Doranelle

Sarah J. Maas is recognised as the creator of the Throne of Glass characters and series.

 **Prelude (from Empire of Storms by Sarah J. Maas)**

Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, simply nods towards Maeve, the triumphant Fae Queen. Acknowledgement of Aelin's surrender. Moments later, she sees the iron box the Fae Queen's escorts carry between them. An ancient iron coffin. Big enough for one person. Crafted for her.

They open the lid of the box, pulling out long, heavy chains from within. One of the escorts hands Maeve an ornate iron mask. The mask, the chains, the box ... they had been crafted long before now. Forged to contain and break Mala's scion.

Maeve lowers the mask and drawls to Aelin with a serpentine smile, "Rumour claims you will bow to no one. Well, now you will bow to me."

She points to the sand. Aelin obeys. Her knees bark as she drops to the ground.

"Lower."

Aelin slides her body until her brow is in the sand.

"Good. Take off your shirt."

Aelin hesitates, realising where this is going. Why Cairn's belt carries a whip.

"I said take off your shirt."

Aelin tugs her shirt out of her pants and slings it over her head, tossing it into the sand beside her. Then she removes the cloth from around her breasts. Two Fae males come forward. Aelin doesn't fight as they each grip her by an arm and haul her up. Spread her arms wide. The sea air kisses her breasts and her navel.

"Ten lashes, Cairn. Let her have a taste of what to expect when we reach our destination if she doesn't cooperate."

"It would be my pleasure, Lady."

Aelin holds Cairn's vicious gaze, willing ice into her veins as Cairn thumbs free his whip. As he rakes his eyes over her body and smiles. A canvas for the sadist to paint with blood and pain.

"Why don't you count for us, Aelin?" says Maeve dangling the mask from her fingers. Aelin keeps her mouth shut.

"Count, or we'll begin again with each stroke you miss. You decide how long this goes on for."

Never. Never, vows Aelin. But as Cairn walks slowly towards her, savouring each step as he let his whip drag along the ground, her body betrays her. She begins shaking. She is no stranger to pain. Knows what it'll feel like; what it'll sound like. Her dreams are still full of it.

"Begin," Maeve says.

Cairn's breath sucks in and he lets fly. Even bracing herself, even clamping down hard, there is nothing to prepare for the crack; the sting; the pain. Aelin doesn't let herself cry out. She only hisses through her teeth.

Blood slides down the back of her pants; her split skin screaming. But Aelin knows how to pace herself. How to yield to the pain. How to take it.

"What number was that, Aelin?"

She refuses to count. She will never count for that rutting bitch.

"Start over, Cairn," Maeve says. So Cairn does. Again. Again. Again.

They start over nine times before Aelin finally screams. The blow had been right atop another one, tearing skin down to the bone. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Cairn is panting, but Aelin still refuses to speak.

"Majesty," murmurs one of the males holding her. "It might be prudent to postpone this until later."

"There's still plenty of skin," Cairn snaps.

Maeve makes a small noise of distaste. "We'll continue later. Get her ready."

Aelin can barely lift her head as the males heave her up. The movement sets her body roaring in such pain that darkness swarms in. But she fights it, grits her teeth and silently roars back at that agony, that darkness. The males half drag her towards Maeve. Towards the iron box; the chains, and the iron mask.

Every inch her feet drags through the sand is a lifetime. Blood soaks her pants. She likely won't be able to heal her wounds encased within all that iron. Not until Maeve decides to heal them herself. But Maeve won't let her die. Not yet. So Aelin Galathynius dries her tears and doesn't resist when Maeve straps the beautiful iron mask over her face.

Blood coats Cairn's whip, still dangling at his side, as Maeve's soldiers finish strapping the mask over Aelin's face. Then they clamp irons on her wrists. Ankles. Neck. No one heals her ravaged back, barely more than a bloody slab of meat, as they guide her into the iron box; make her lie upon her wounds. And then they slide the lid into place and lock it.

1\. Journey to Doranelle.

I've no doubt that Maeve will take me back to Doranelle. After all, Doranelle is Maeve's stronghold; the centre of the Fae realm for countless centuries. If she's careless, I'll die of starvation or thirst before she can get me back to her palace. It's a long journey, and opening this iron box on the journey to feed me will risk weakening the Fae Queen's stranglehold over my magic power. Unfortunately, Maeve isn't likely to be careless. She'll use her own magic to speed her entourage's journey home. She needs me alive until the three wyrdkeys are in her possession. As the most magically gifted among the few survivors of Mala's line, I'm the best means by which Maeve can obtain them.

My magic power is very different from Maeve's. She can manipulate and control living beings, but only a few inanimate objects. And certainly not wildfire. Only Mala's descendants can use wildfire. Maeve manipulated me into exhausting my power before springing her ambush. Eventually Maeve will need me to restore and use my power to achieve her deadly ambitions. But she'll only permit me to do that once she's certain that I'm a broken husk; permanently enslaved to her every whim. She wants to humiliate me; shame me; make me feel worthless. All hope abandoned. Tormenting me until I beg for a death which she will take pleasure in denying. At least, until I've delivered the wyrdkeys into her hands. Even then she will only allow me an excruciatingly slow and painful death.

Free of these iron restraints, my power will restore itself in only a few days. Access to even a small amount of power would enable me to heal my wounds. But iron dampens any magic wielder's ability to rejuvenate and use power. And I'm encased in more than enough iron to prevent any use of my magic, even if it was fully restored.

My bloody back presses against the rough iron floor of the casket, sending ripples of pain through my body. I'm no stranger to pain. The year I spent as a slave in the brutal mines of Endovier introduced me to a life of hopelessness; where excruciating pain was a daily occurrence. I survived that. I'll survive this. The darkness around me would drive many people insane. Again, my experience in Endovier has taught me how to endure. Besides, there are small air holes in the iron box above my face which allow some light as well as air to enter my prison.

Of course, all this is just a prelude to the cruelty and torture Maeve will be planning for me when we reach our destination. Only the knowledge that Maeve needs me to be able to function keeps me from total despair. For years I've been the target of the Fae Queen's ambitions. She's been biding her time until I learned how to reach and control wildfire. My own foolishness has given her an ample demonstration that I've acquired the required skills. I realised too late why my mother, Evalin, hid and protected me from her Fae kin, particularly the Fae Queen. Now I know what Maeve would have done earlier, had she been aware that I'd survived the slaughter that included the death of my parents ten years ago. After years of waiting, Maeve has me in her clutches.

For now, I console myself with the knowledge that Maeve secretly fears me. At least, until she can reduce me to a broken and obedient slave to her cruel demands. Only then will Maeve feel safe. Should my magic powers be fully restored while I'm unbroken, then I'm a threat to Maeve's hold over the Fae. Whether my wildfire is strong enough to kill her is something that neither Maeve nor I can know. But the possibility is enough to make Maeve nervous, and very cautious in my handling. Hence all this iron encasing my wounded body.

I think about happier memories to divert my mind from the pain and my pending fate. Over the last year or so I've encountered many people I can now call 'friend'. And many more who willingly call me their queen. Even a few who know me more intimately. My new husband, Rowan, in particular. The special tattoos Rowan marked on my back are probably torn from my body by Cairn's whip. For that alone I want to make Cairn pay. But it is other aspects of Rowan that I deliberately allow to flood my mind.

Lovemaking between Fae is never a gentle coupling. I'm part human, but I can also draw on all the normal Fae emotions and senses. Rowan carries scars on his back where I've left my mark during the wild ecstasy his male possession of my body drew from me. I'm hungry for that sensation again, but I know denying me access to it is just another instrument of torture Maeve will use against me. It's probably one of the reasons Maeve has delayed her move until now. She wanted to make sure I experienced the incredibly wild sensations generated when a Fae female has sex ... even one who isn't a pure-blood Fae. Teasing me with those sensations, but always denying fulfilment, is a far more effective torture than Cairn's whip.

I feel the iron box being moved. People are talking, but the thickness of the iron walls muffles the sounds into an incoherent mumbling. The sounds and smells around me hint that I'm being moved onto a ship. Not the hold, though. There's too much light coming through the air holes, and there's a faint whiff of perfume or flowers. It seems likely Maeve has ordered my box to be placed in her cabin. She doesn't want to waste an opportunity to gloat and begin the process of breaking me to her will. The box is lowered with a thump, causing fresh ripples of pain through my back. But I refuse to cry out even though I long to scream and yell.

A few minutes later I sense the ship beginning to move. Whatever Maeve's plans might be, she's not wasting any time getting clear of the Eyllwe shore. It'll only be a short while before Rowan and the others join those who stood by my side when I accepted Maeve's terms of surrender. It's for the best. My magic was drained. Fighting Maeve would only have resulted in the pointless deaths of my friends. This way there is still hope for Terrasen in its fight against Erawan and his dark hordes. Our real enemy. Maeve's enemy too, if only she would overcome her obsession to possess the three wyrdkeys. I just hope Rowan doesn't do anything foolish, like trying to rescue me from Doranelle. Maeve has held Rowan in her thrall once before. The Fae warriors who betrayed me did so because they could not resist Maeve's power. She wouldn't hesitate to enslave Rowan again now that I'm at her mercy.

I hear something brushing against the lid of the iron box. A faint chuckling alerts me to the presence of someone only a few centimetres from where I lay.

"Do you like your mask, Aelin?" purrs Maeve through the holes in the lid. I refuse to reply.

"I had it made especially for you. Long before you or your parents were born."

I hold back a retort, since that's what Maeve wants. Speaking acknowledges her power over me. Acknowledges my helplessness. Her words remind me that she is extremely old, even for one of the long-lived Fae. Her words are a twisting of the truth. Mala's line was never abundant with offspring, but sooner or later a child would be born who could summon and control wildfire. Me. As soon as Maeve realised that I'm the one she's been waiting for, she dusted off this iron mask, box and chains.

Maeve's question diverts my mind to the mask. Despite it's evil purpose, the mask is a work of art. It consists of an ornate pattern of thin iron rods linked together like a spiders web, supported by thicker bars shaped like vines. Leaf patterns on the vines add decoration, and also provide a means to attach the straps which hold the mask firmly in place. I suspect other things can be attached to the vines as well, to provide Maeve with plenty of choices to torment and punish me. The mask covers most of the front part of my face, from my forehead to my chin. It's heavy, but not unbearably so. The strong chain linking the thick collar, wrist and ankle shackles are another matter entirely. I quickly stop my mind from wandering any further down this train of thought. It's the route to despair and submission.

"Perhaps you are thirsty, Aelin? Would you like a drink?"

My throat is parched and I will need to drink soon. But I'll be damned if I'm going to admit it to Maeve. I remain silent. Maeve doesn't repeat her question. A sound from outside the box leaves me wondering what is going on. Then water starts filtering through the air holes above my head. I open my mouth and drink what I can as it sprays onto my face. It's warm and tastes awful. Then a contented sigh from above me makes me realise what has occurred. Maeve has wasted no time in trying to humiliate me.


	2. Arrival

2\. Arrival

I must have passed out at some point because it is night when I come round. Either that or I've been moved to a darker place on the ship. The rolling motion of the casket confirms we are still at sea. I can't hear the sounds of the crew, but that doesn't mean anything. I try to avoid gagging on the stench inside this casket. My own blood and sweat, coupled with the remnants of Maeve's gift, mix with the strong smell of the iron. It's overpowering my other senses.

I try moving my hands. The iron box permits me some movement, but only enough to ease a sore muscle or move the heavy chains resting on my torso. My shredded back protests at any form of movement, but I suppress my cry of pain. I need to explore my prison. I need to see if there's any way to freedom.

It's a forlorn hope. Maeve has had years to prepare for this event. She wouldn't be so careless as to leave any weakness I could exploit. I lift my hands as far as I can reach towards my mouth. The chains on my wrists pull taught as my fingers touch the mask in front of my nose. The right side of my mouth, and the lower part of my right cheek, are clear of the mask, but an iron leaf fastened to the ornate vine on the left side of my face covers most of my mouth. I feel around the leaf, trying to work out how it is fastened, but I can't find any means of detaching it. I explore the inside of the lid as I lower my hands to my side. I can't find anything to offer me hope. I drift off into a restless slumber.

Another spray of warm smelly liquid wakes me some time later. This time I turn my head away and refuse to drink. Whoever is outside must hear my movement inside the casket because I can hear a low chuckle.

"Are you comfortable, your majesty," laughs a male voice. Cairn! "Make the most of your rest. It'll be the last one you'll get for a very long time."

I resist the temptation to tell Cairn what I think of him. Speaking will be a form of submission, and I must hold out long enough to let my friends escape. Once Maeve realises I no longer hold the two wyrdkeys I had in my possession, she'll return to Eyllwe and pursue my friends. But they'll soon go their separate ways. Each with their own pre-arranged task towards defeating Erawan. Even the mighty Maeve will stay well clear of Erawan until she has the wyrdkeys in her possession.

Ironically, my capture means that I'll live a while longer. Maeve isn't the only being who has been waiting for my birth. Only one of Mala's line can create a new lock for the wyrdkeys. Only then will the latent power of the wyrdkeys be silenced, and Erawan and his dark minions banished forever. I've no idea how to create a lock, but more than one of my ghostly ancestors demands that I do. To achieve something which they failed to do in their lifetime. And my reward? Death. To rid this world of the wyrdkeys' power, I must willingly sacrifice myself. Failure will surrender everyone living on this world to Erawan's dark powers, despite what Maeve believes.

Cairn doesn't linger. He gains his pleasure from watching his victims squirm and bleed. He'd like to lay his whip across my back once again. But the iron casket deprives him of that freedom as much as it deprives me of mine. I'm left alone to my own thoughts.

I can hear my next visitor approaching from the sound of chains being dragged across the floor. A prisoner of some sort, or is there another reason for the chains? A small hatch in the lid of the casket opens, admitting slightly more light. I hadn't detected the hatch before and it is only large enough for someone to reach into the casket. A piece of bread is tossed into my prison, landing on my chest. I quickly move my hands to catch it, but fumble as my heavy chains hinder my movement. The hatch closes immediately and the sound of shuffling feet dragging a chain recedes. I feel around for the bread, and finally locate it soaked in whatever fluid it has landed in as it rolled off my chest. I'm too hungry to bother with the state of my food, and I devour the bread before my mind persuades me otherwise.

For three days ... as far as I can judge ... the routine is the same. The stench in my prison is almost unbearable. To add to my woes, I'm having to lie in my own waste. My trousers are beyond salvation, although that will be the least of my worries when we arrive in Doranelle.

I've humbled myself into drinking whatever fluid is sprayed into my face. Once in a while I think it is actually fresh water that I'm being given, but it could simply be my mind playing tricks. The pain in my back has eased, although I don't fool myself into believing my wounds have healed. The bleeding feels as though it has stopped, and whatever blood I've been lying in has dried solid onto my back. I'll have yet more scars across my back to join those acquired during my time in the mines of Endovier.

Finally the rocking motion stops and I detect a different set of sounds around me. It seems as though we've arrived at a port, and Maeve's party is preparing for the overland journey to Doranelle. Sure enough, something is attached to the top of my prison just above my head. A rattling sound is soon followed by the casket tipping upright, causing me to drop onto my feet. I brace myself for the pain across my back, but I only feel a slight twinge as my back slides a few centimetres downwards. I feel the casket swinging about as though it is being hoisted out of the ship's hold. The motion stops abruptly as the casket lands with a loud clunk. I'm once again lowered until I'm lying on my back.

It doesn't takes me long to work out that I'm lying in a wagon. The sudden jolts and assorted sounds tells me that we are travelling along a road. There follows four more days of the same routine I experienced on the ship. Only this time I'm given clean water to drink each time we stop.

I've become so used to the regular pattern of our journey that I don't realise when we reach our destination. Suddenly, I feel the box being lowered to the ground. To my great surprise, the lid of the casket is opened, and I'm blinded by the light. Maeve is there looking down at me. She holds a cloth over her nose to shield her from the foul smell.

"Clean the girl up," says Maeve to one of the Fae around her. "I'll not have my palace polluted by this filth. Bring her to me when you're done. Don't let her out of this box or you'll regret the day you were born."

A Fae female wearing an iron collar like mine shuffles forward. I can't see her feet, but I can hear the sound of dragging chain. Is this the person who has fed me during the journey? She looks at me with a hint of sympathy mixed with fear. Maeve and the other Fae leave her to her task. The female's first action is to test my chains, and to check that the additional chains attaching my ankles to the casket are still secure. I couldn't leave this casket even if I was in a fit enough state to do so. She takes out a knife and cuts my remaining clothes to shreds. Then she lifts the rags away, filth and all and places them in a sack. I'm left naked apart from the iron mask and fetters adorning my body.

She disappears for a moment, only to return carrying a bucket of water which she tips into the box. The process is repeated several times, until the level of the water threatens to drown me. She grabs hold of the chain linked to my collar and pulls me into a standing position. I'm wobbly on my legs and she holds my chain tight until I'm steady on my feet. I can't leave the box because of the restraints around my ankles, but it nevertheless feels like freedom. I reach down into my inner self to see if I can feel my magic power returning. Nothing. The iron mask and fetters are sufficient in themselves to prevent me from restoring my power. The iron casket isn't necessary to contain my power, it's only purpose is to break me to Maeve's will.

The Fae female scrubs the inside of the casket with a brush before turning her attentions to me. She produces a cloth and proceeds to wipe the dirt from my body. She avoids touching my back with the cloth, but rinses clean water over my wounds. The pain is nothing like as bad as when Cairn finished his brutal work on my back. Once she's cleaned everywhere she can reach, she scoops the water out of the iron box with her bucket and tips it into a channel in the yard where we are located.

Then she repeats the whole process again. This time she pour water over my face, which is the closest either of us can get to washing it. Once she's satisfied that I'm ready, she signals to another Fae female who has arrived in the meantime. The new arrival inspects the first female's work and then tells her to leave. This one is free of fetters and is better dressed than her predecessor. She locks an iron chastity belt around my lower parts before spraying some strong smelling liquid over my face. It's a familiar smell but it takes me a few moments to recognise it. It's the stirring sensation in my loins that reminds me of what it is. It's the same smell Rowan emits when we're having sex. Only ten times stronger. I try to clamp down on my unwilling reaction, but the scent is so strong that I can't prevent the effect on my body. Despite my predicament, I'm reaching an extreme state of sexual arousal.

I'm so intent on satisfying my burning need for sexual pleasure that I barely notice what is happening. I don't object when the female orders me to lie down. She closes the lid of the box and locks it shut. My hands reach between my legs and I try to satisfy my burning need. But the chastity belt is far too effective to allow me to pleasure myself at all. I try moving my loins in the hope that the pressure of my swelling vagina against the iron bar between my legs will trigger a release. But the chastity belt is as well designed as this casket. I'm a helpless slave. I'm panting in frustration by the time someone arrives to take my casket into Maeve's presence.

The journey is mercifully short, although I'm fooling myself if I think I'll be granted release when we reach our destination. I can only hope the male sex scent will dissipate soon, and allow me to regain control of my body. The casket is placed upright and I stop my desperate play only long enough to steady myself within my prison. Unable to find satisfaction between my legs, I've resorted to playing with my breasts. It doesn't really help as it simply drives me wilder with lust and desire.

Then the lid to my casket is unlocked and slid open. A Fae male rushes forward and unfastens the chains keeping my ankles bound to the casket. He then pulls me forward. I'm inside Maeve's throne room. Maeve is sat on her throne a few metres before me. A dozen or so elegantly dressed Fae standing in a line either side of her. More Fae are gathered behind them, and armed Fae stand at strategic points around the room.

"Welcome to Doranelle, Aelin," sneers Maeve. "Let my loyal subjects witness the submission of the Queen of Terrasen to her new mistress. Bow before me as you did on the sands of Eyllwe."

I halt my indecent pleasuring of my nipples to stare at the Fae Queen. I'm helpless for the moment but my spirit remains strong. Maeve won't break me that easily. She must sense my resistance and she leans forward so her face is level with mine. She produces a small key and holds it before my eyes. It's the key to my chastity belt.

"Do as I say, Aelin, and just this once I'll grant you the pleasure you are desperately seeking," she says so only I can hear. "Refuse and I'll have you sprayed with the mist every ten minutes until you do. How long do you think you can last with that yearning in your loins?"

Not long. I know that for sure. The scent is what makes Fae couplings so physical. My innards are craving for release, and no amount of physical pain is going to dampen that need. Cairn could whip me to a pulp and I'd still feel aroused. My legs are already wet with my desire. I look helplessly at the Fae Queen. She has me at her mercy and the sinister smile on her face tells me she already knows my response. I drop to my knees as gracefully as I can manage in my heavy fetters, and debase myself before my new mistress.

"Rise, slave, and display your gratitude before my subjects."

I struggle to my feet and Maeve unlocks my belt. My hands promptly dart between my legs and moments later a flood from my loins proves my wantonness. Maeve is my mistress now. I was a fool to ever think otherwise.


	3. Another lesson

3\. Another lesson.

My senses gradually return to normal. I look around Maeve's throne room at the crowd gathered for the sole purpose of witnessing my humiliation. I've submitted to Maeve in the most degrading way imaginable. But the eyes of my audience show a hint of sympathy towards my plight. These Fae understand how I've been manipulated into debasing myself. Maeve holds their loyalty through fear rather than love for their queen.

Maeve pays her subjects no mind. She quickly locks my chastity belt back in place and returns to her throne. I do my best to stand up straight. My heavy fetters make it nearly impossible, but I try to restore some of my dignity. Maeve issues an order to one of her attendants and moments later the chamber is emptied of all but a few retainers. Maeve watches me as I stand helpless before her. I begin to wonder what she is doing until I sense the subtle touch of her magic on my senses. She's tried this trick once before, and was surprised when she realised I could detect her touch. Despite all the iron encasing me, and the exhausted state of my power, I can still sense her magic touch.

"Interesting," says Maeve. "Perhaps you aren't as helpless as you appear, slave. Now tell me what you have done with the wyrdkeys you had in your possession."

My earlier moment of weakness has passed. My spirit remains strong despite my hopeless situation. I refuse to answer Maeve's question. Instead I glare at her. At least as much of a glare my iron mask allows me to display.

"Hah! You resist. How disappointing. Very well, I can see that another lesson is required."

Maeve issues orders to one of her attendants, who promptly leaves on the mission he's been given. I don't need to wait for long. Cairn appears in an unseemly rush. He must have been promised an opportunity to strip more of my skin from my body with his whip. The man disgusts me. But he's a predictable enemy. Maeve, on the other hand, is an enemy full of surprises. I can never tell what she will do next.

"Last chance to talk, slave," sneers Maeve. "Talk and you will deny Cairn his pleasure."

Maeve will have to try harder than that if she wants me to talk to her. I didn't yield to Cairn's brutality on the beach in Eyllwe; I shan't do so now.

But yet again Maeve proves her unpredictability. She signals for the fettered female who had cleaned me to come forward. She appears from some hidden alcove at the back of the room. With her is a young Fae female who's about my age.

"This is Noor, and her daughter Nisa," says Maeve. "Noor made the mistake of trying to defy me once. So I punish her regularly to remind her of her error. She's improving. Now she obeys my commands without question. Don't you Noor?"

"Yes, Lady," replies Noor meekly.

"Good. Remove Nisa's clothing."

Both Noor and Nisa look at Maeve in disbelief. But Noor is a broken slave to Maeve's desires, and she only hesitates for a moment before obeying the command she's been given. Nisa shows more resistance, but she too knows she cannot refuse. Once Nisa is naked, Maeve orders her to stand in the middle of the room and place her hands on her head. I must be the last person in the room to realise what is about to happen. I find it too horrifying to contemplate, even of Maeve. Only when Cairn unfurls his whip and moves towards where Nisa is standing to I realise the depths of cruelty Maeve is capable of sinking.

"See what your defiance of me has wrought," sneers Maeve to me. "Answer my question and you will spare Nisa from unnecessary suffering. The responsibility for her fate is on your shoulders alone. You have five seconds to consider."

Cairn moves into position and I quickly look into Noor and Nisa's eyes. Noor shows no emotion at all, but Nisa is silently pleading for me to save her. I can't tolerate this cruelty.

"Stop," I cry. "I'll answer your questions."

"That's better, slave. I'm sure Nisa will thank you later. Three lashes, Cairn."

"My pleasure, Lady," replies Cairn.

"Wait!" I cry. "You said you would spare her."

"No. I said your obedience would save Nisa from unnecessary suffering. Had you continued to defy me, then her punishment would have been far worse. But you defied me to begin with, so recompense is due. It's entirely your fault. Begin, Cairn."

"Then let me endure the punishment," I reply. "Spare Nisa."

"How touching," laughs Maeve. "But I will gain nothing by allowing Cairn to beat you into a pulp. I've far better ways to ensure your compliance. But don't worry. I'll allow you to feel the kiss of Cairn's whip from time to time."

I try to move forward to shield Nisa. But she is too far away and I can only shuffle forward in my heavy fetters. Three lashes might appear to be a light punishment compared to the punishments the slaves of Endovier endured, but Cairn is capable of inflicting excruciating pain in a single stroke. Nisa cries out in agony as the first of Cairn's strokes lands. She drops her arms to protect her body.

"Count the strokes, Nisa," commands Maeve. "And keep your hands on your head, or we'll add more lashes to your punishment."

"One," mumbles Nisa once she's restored her composure and position.

"Louder, Nisa. My new slave didn't hear you."

"One," calls Nisa in a louder voice.

There's a slight hint of defiance in her tone which Maeve might have detected. Cairn changes position slightly for the second blow. Another cry of pain, but Nisa holds her position.

"Two," says Nisa, holding back her tears.

The third stroke is positioned to aggravate the first two wounds. Nisa yells out in agony and collapses to the floor. She can no longer hold back her tears. Noor looks as though she wishes to run to her daughter's aid, but her fear and her training holds Noor firmly in her place.

"Stand up, Nisa," snaps Maeve. "I'll not have weaklings in my realm. I didn't hear you count the stroke. It seems as though she requires another one, Cairn."

Cairn can barely hold back his glee. But he must wait until Nisa is in position. To her credit Nisa struggles to her feet after only a few seconds and dries her eyes. She refuses to give Maeve the belated call of the third stroke. She'd be too late anyway. Nisa prepares herself for a fourth. It comes with all the brutality Cairn can muster. Blood sprays across the floor. But Nisa doesn't cry out and she defiantly holds her position, although only with great difficulty.

"Three," calls Nisa, in as clear a voice as she can summon.

"Good," says Maeve. "You may leave and attend to your other duties, Cairn. Noor; clean my throne room floor of your brat's blood."

I dread to think what other duties Cairn might have been assigned. He is only capable of one type of task. Nisa is left standing where she is, trembling from the pain racking her body. Maeve moves across to where Nisa is standing and examines her wounds carefully. Then Maeve shows a small amount of mercy. She uses her magic to seal Nisa's wounds.

"We'll leave a few scars to remind you never to speak to me again with defiance in your voice," says Maeve once she's completed her healing. "Now get out of my sight."

Nisa doesn't need telling twice. Noor is ignored as she washes the floor of her daughter's blood. Maeve turns her attention to me.

"See how kind and generous I can be, slave," says Maeve with an insincere smile on her face. "Now I believe you owe me an answer. Where are the two wyrdkeys you had in your possession."

"I don't know," I reply. "I haven't seen them since we departed from the shores of Eyllwe."

"Fool! I know that. I've personally searched everything you were wearing when you surrendered to me. Even the disgusting rags Noor stripped from your body. I don't know how you managed to slip the wyrdkeys to one of your friends, but it'll do you no good in the long run. You will recover them for me in due course. Once I'm satisfied that you're truly mine to command. So let's begin your training. Who are you?"

"Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen," I reply defiantly.

"Wrong answer," snaps Maeve. "You no longer have a name, title or home. You are simply 'Slave' until I choose to give you a name. My slave. Mine to do as I will. So, let's try again. Who are you?"

"Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen."

"Pah! I can see that we've a lot of work to do. But there's time, and I've all the patience in the world. Your former friends will keep Erawan occupied until I'm ready. Your defiance will only result in the needless deaths of innocents. You are cruel beyond belief."

"You're the cruel one, Maeve," I retort.

"Yes, I'm cruel. I admit it. It's the only way to rule the Fae. But you are just as cruel to allow those you supposedly care about from facing Erawan's hordes alone. You only need to willingly submit to me, and I will see that their suffering ends."

Maeve only wants to replace one kind of suffering with another. But she is so convinced of her righteousness that she will never admit it.

"Return to your box," says Maeve abruptly. "You need time to think about your situation. We'll resume your training later."

Upon Maeve's signal, two Fae guards come rushing over to where I'm standing and haul me into my iron prison. They lock my ankle chains to the sides of the box and seal the lid. A few minutes later I'm carried away.

I'm left alone lying on my back. Daylight streams through the small holes above my face, but I've no means of knowing whether I'm outside, or in one of the many high vaulted areas that I recall from my previous visit to Doranelle. Nobody comes near me and I am forced to endure hours of boredom. My only consolation is that the wounds on my back seem to be healing faster than they ought. When I'm in my Fae form, the fast-healing properties of Fae bodies have helped me. But I've never experienced the same phenomenon before while I'm in my human form. Not that I'm complaining.

Boredom is now my biggest enemy. I let my mind drift onto more pleasant matters to pass the time. My friends should now be well clear of any immediate threat from Maeve. Her nonchalance about the missing wyrdkeys is one of her many lies. Even one wyrdkey could be used to give her extra powers. Two would make her almost invincible. Her own considerable powers are enough to control the Fae, and as she has demonstrated, she's powerful enough on her own to trap me. But she can't maintain control over me and her realm while at the same time chasing across the Northern Continent looking for the wyrdkeys. That's why she needs me broken to her will. I can sense the wyrdkeys and track them down. It's a power which Maeve lacks.

My thoughts drift inevitably to Rowan. I really miss him. But I hope he won't be so foolish as to try and rescue me. He's needed in Terrasen to fight the advancing hordes of Erawan. I promised to raise an army to defend Terrasen, and I delivered on that promise. But an army needs leaders; Aedin; Rowan.

I realise too late that my thoughts are leading me into fresh problems. When Maeve's earlier trickery aroused me to senselessness, she found the weakest point in my defences. Thoughts of Rowan possessing my yielding body are what drove me into a state of wild abandon. I fear that my mind is capable of recreating those feelings all by itself. And it's doing so now. I resist. I resist as hard as I can. I think of Cairn and his cruel whip. I think of Maeve forcing me to degrade myself further and further into the depths of depravity. My resistance works up to a point. I find myself again pressing my loins against the unyielding bar of my chastity belt. A familiar moistness wets my vagina. No! I must stop this. Stop it now.

My breasts yearn for my touch. My nipples go as hard as stone, itching for some form of contact. But I resist. The moment I give in to my base desires, then I'll be unable to stop. My Fae blood may have somehow granted me a chance to heal my wounds faster, but it has left me at the mercy of a Fae's carnal desires. In Fae form, I could easily control those desires, but my human form has no resistance to the spiralling effect of Fae mating instincts.

For half an hour I resist the urges coursing through my body. Tragically it is the arrival of my next meal that breaks my defence. The familiar sound of a chain being dragged across the floor alerts me to Noor's arrival. She opens the hatch and tosses a piece of bread into my box. I move quickly to catch the bread, but in doing so run my chains across my breast. It's enough to send an uncontrollable spasm through my body. Before I can stop myself I'm eating the bread while playing with my breasts. It's a route that can lead to only one outcome.

Tears of frustration stream down my face. How many hours have I been at the brink of an orgasm but unable to tip myself over the edge into blissful release. It's dark now and most people will be asleep. Apart from twice being interrupted by the arrival of food and water, I've spent a large part of the day driving myself insane with lust and desire. Rowan once warned me of the dangers of reaching this emotional state in my Fae form. Neither of us believed it would affect me like this as a human. There's no easy way down from these heights without satisfying my cravings. In human form a cold bath would probably dampen my ardour. In Fae form it would only increase it even more. I may appear to be human, but at the moment my senses are pure Fae.

Then incredibly I fall asleep.


	4. The cage

4\. The cage.

I'm woken by the sound and feel of my box being moved. My sexual cravings have dulled for the moment, but they've not entirely disappeared. I'm bursting to relieve myself but I resist the degrading act for the moment. My chastity belt is shaped to allow me to perform my normal bodily functions. Nevertheless I don't want to soil myself if I can avoid it. It would only be another step on the slippery slope to my total degradation.

The box is put down and the lid unlocked. Maeve stands there looking at me. One of her attendants checks my box and, at Maeve's command, unfastens the ankle chains keeping me locked inside the box.

"Get out of the box, slave," orders Maeve.

I could refuse, but it would be a pointless defiance. I struggle to sit up and then raise myself to my feet. The box had been placed on a newly built wooden plinth in an annex of Maeve's throne room. An iron cage is located next to my box.

"Welcome to your new home, slave," smirks Maeve. "Behave and you'll be allowed to reside inside the cage when I'm not in need of your services. Disobey me and you'll be returned to the box. Your choice."

I look at the cage. It's not very large; too small to allow me to stand upright, but I could sit or crouch, and it's wide enough that I could lie down. Small it might be, but it would allow me more freedom than the box. But at what price is this freedom granted?

"Today we shall resume your training," says Maeve. "I intend to have you broken in to my satisfaction by the end of the week. You have four days, slave. If by then I'm satisfied that you are truly mine, then you'll save Nisa from further punishment. You alone are responsible for her fate. And if she should die from Cairn's attentions, then I can find plenty more to replace her."

Four days. Can I find a way to restore my magic power in such a short time? Unlikely. Unless I can get myself free of this mask and my fetters. Maeve signals for Nisa to join us.

"I've made Nisa responsible for your training. Obey her as though you are obeying me. She will report your progress at the end of each day. Both of you will be rewarded or punished as I think fit depending on your progress."

Nisa waits while Maeve strolls across the room towards a waiting chair. She clearly intends to watch the first part of my training. I look at Nisa. She seems very nervous, but she's resigned to her task. I'm in a quandary. As Maeve demonstrated yesterday, she's more than happy to play on my guilt when I'm faced with someone else suffering for my defiance. It's a far more effective weapon than beating me into submission.

Nisa begins by going through some basic rules I'm expected to follow. Firstly, I'm not allowed to speak without permission. She shows me the signal I'm to give if I want to ask for permission. There's another signal if I need to perform a bodily function. More signals for when I complete an assigned task, or if I don't understand an instruction. Then there are postures I'm expected to adopt in different circumstances. Those are a bit of a joke while I'm bound by these heavy chains. Nevertheless, Nisa has me practise them repeatedly. Only when she is satisfied with my attempts does she respond to my increasingly urgent signals, and allow me to relieve myself in the small chamber at the back of the room. I shuffle off as quickly as I can manage with Nisa following close behind. It's embarrassing having to relieve myself in Nisa's presence, but she is clearly expected to be in attendance. We return to the room to resume my training.

The next part of my training could only be described as physical exercises. I'm ordered to walk about the annex and throne room as quickly as I can manage in my fetters. It's difficult to say whether the purpose of the exercise is to build up my muscles, or simply to provide amusement for Maeve. If nothing else, it aggravates the sores forming around my wrists and ankles from my fetters. Maeve clearly enjoys seeing me suffer and being bent to her will. But she's a long way to go before she breaks my willpower. To be honest, I don't know why she's wasting her time with this performance. I might be forced to comply while I'm bound as I am, but she must know that she'll lose control the moment I'm free.

Finally we stop for a break. Food and drink arrive. For the first time since my capture I'm allowed to eat and drink normally. At least, as normal as anyone can eat and drink through one side of their mouth. The iron mask effectively blocks anything from passing into the left side of my mouth. Nisa is looking increasingly nervous as we prepare for the next session. Maeve decides to leave us for now and moments later Nisa and I are alone.

"You must remember the signals and postures. I'm not allowed to show you them again. Now lie on the floor. I'm sorry for what I must do next, but I have no choice. My mother will be handed over to Cairn tonight for his pleasure if I fail in my task."

I want to tell Nisa that I don't blame her, but I remember that I'm not allowed to speak without permission. Nisa refuses my signal requesting permission to speak, but I think she understands. The threat to Noor is aimed at obtaining Nisa's compliance rather than trying to defeat me.

I soon realise that although Nisa is reluctant to be my trainer, she is nevertheless exceptionally good at the task of breaking in a new slave. She must have done this several times before. However, I'm probably the first human-Fae cross-breed she's been tasked with breaking. Her technique will only affect a Fae, and she's clearly uncertain whether it will work on me. However, that doesn't weaken her obvious determination to succeed.

To break a human slave, he or she would be beaten and deprived of the basic necessities of life until they capitulated. For the strong minded that could take weeks, or even months. Breaking in a Fae slave is more subtle. It's a simple matter of a dominant Fae overpowering the magic possessed by a lesser Fae. The inherent magic possessed by every Fae can be manipulated to work against its carrier. Not to the extent that the magic can be used to kill its carrier, but enough to render it ineffective if it isn't used as the dominant Fae commands. Furthermore, if the dominant Fae desires, the open door created by the lesser Fae yielding control of their magic can be used to influence what the lesser Fae believes.

Maeve is the most dominant Fae alive. She wouldn't still be the Fae queen if that wasn't the case. She has ruthlessly usurped her followers own magic powers; she's twisted their beliefs to the extent that none of them question the rightness of Maeve's demands. Her plan for me is simple. Through a mixture of pain and reward she intends to rip open a door into the source of my magic, and implant her own beliefs into my mind. If she succeeds I really will become her helpless slave, never questioning the commands Maeve gives me. I may be powerful enough to cause Maeve significant damage, but if my mind is dominated by Maeve's beliefs and values, then I would never consider such an act. This is undoubtedly her goal.

Nisa's role is to chip away at the natural barriers protecting my magic, until a large enough crack or opening allows Maeve to burst into my mind. The depleted state of my power only helps Nisa in her task. The very opening she is trying to force is also being created by my power seeking a channel through which it can restore itself. The iron mask and fetters serve to focus my power's search for channel. My own power's need for renewal is actually helping Maeve's cause. It must be why the iron mask leaves the lower right side of my face exposed. It's a trap to lure my power into creating a channel at that spot. A place where Nisa is silently probing carefully with her magic.

There are flaws in Maeve's plan. I doubt whether she knows if this technique will work on a human-Fae cross-breed. It's probably why she used her magic to probe me yesterday. And even if she influences my beliefs, my mixed blood may weaken her imposition so that her hold is only temporary. Even with pure blooded Fae, her hold over their beliefs erodes over time. It's why she cannot risk leaving Doranelle for an extended period, nor allow her minions to be absent for too long. She needs to constantly renew her control.

Nisa's probing is not as subtle as Maeve's, and I can detect where she is looking. During my last visit to Doranelle, Maeve said that my ability to detect probing magic is a very rare talent. Nisa probably doesn't know such an ability exists, and in the circumstances I've no intention of telling her. I must hope that I can control my own power's quest for renewal so as to keep it away from Nisa's search.

"You have a strong natural resistance," concedes Nisa after half an hour of fruitless probing. "I'm sorry, but we must try another way. Stand up and face the cage."

Nisa must have anticipated failure as she has an alternative plan in reserve. I struggle to my feet, careful not to reveal that I know what she's just been doing. I face the cage as Nisa demands and wait for whatever is to happen next. To my horror I realise Nisa has more of the spray that was used on me yesterday. It's the most effective weapon against me in Maeve's arsenal. My loins are already stirring even before Nisa squirts a gentle mist of the stuff into my face. She takes extra care not to inhale the mist herself, since she too would be affected by it.

I try not to breathe in the mist, but enough settles on my mask and face around my nose for the powerful male musk to trigger the expected response. I resist the temptation to use my hands to strengthen my mounting desire. In a few minutes I'll be reduced to helplessness. I'll become obedient to any demand that might offer me the chance of satisfying my burning sexual desire. I hate myself for being so weak, but there's nothing I can do to prevent it.

I'm not certain what Nisa hopes to achieve. Yesterday, Maeve had a clear goal when she used the spray. My uncontrollable desire for sexual release made me humiliate myself in front of Maeve and her court. There's no audience today. Being degraded in private serves no useful purpose at all.

My musing is abruptly brought to an end when Cairn appears, with his whip ready in his hand. Nisa studies me carefully as I quickly reach a state of arousal. Soon I'll be unable to prevent my hands from making a futile attempt to overcome the restraint of the chastity belt. Even Cairn's presence can't stop my mounting desire.

"We are both aware that Cairn is a master of the whip," says Nisa. "But he claims to have one trick that will surprise you. I've decided that I'll let him prove his boast."

I can't believe Nisa has willingly let this monster loose on my body. Unfortunately I'm too aroused to show any anger. I'm rapidly reaching the point of desperation. A point where I would sink into the depths of depravity if it would only give me release.

"Legs apart. Hold your hands clear of your body," commands Cairn. I don't respond.

"Do as Cairn says, or I'll use more of the spray," warns Nisa.

I submit and move my legs apart and my hands as far from my body as my chains permit. I wait for more pain across my partially healed back. But Cairn's first stroke doesn't strike my back. It's my buttocks which take the force of the lash. I grit my teeth, refusing to cry out. Two more strokes land across my buttocks. Each slightly above and parallel to its predecessor. I'll not be able to sit comfortably for a while, but I doubt that will concern anybody in Doranelle.

Cairn moves position for another stroke. Despite the pain in my buttocks, my juices are beginning to flow from my loins. My arousal is reaching its peak, but I've no means of tipping myself over the blissful edge into release. Cairn studies me. He chooses his moment carefully and lets fly with his whip. But it's not across my back or my buttocks this time. His whip finds its way between my legs and lands along the length on the small slit in my chastity belt that allows me to pee. The whip finds it way between the two sides of the slit and hits my swollen vagina. The pain is unbelievable and I nearly pass out. But it also achieves the one thing that nothing else has done so far. My body starts jerking uncontrollably. Partly from the pain, but also because Cairn's whip has provided me with what I needed the most at the moment.

I look at Cairn and see a satisfied smirk on his face. I feel ashamed. Humiliated. Degraded. My most hated enemy has found a way to control me. What's worse, I meekly obey when Nisa orders me to thank him for his treatment. He knows that before long I'll be broken and yearning for the feel of his lash again. I'm completely undone. There's no way back to normality for me from here. Maeve will win. No. Maeve has already won.


	5. Swaying

5\. Swaying.

Nisa tells Cairn to leave. An order he surprisingly obeys at once. Then Nisa tells me to fetch a bucket of water and clean myself up. There's remarkably little blood. My buttocks sting from the three parallel welts, but it is only broken in a couple of places. It's the blow between my legs which is the most in need of soothing. Unfortunately it's the wound neither of us can reach at all. I detect Nisa's magic probing the area around my vagina and I sense her invisible healing touch. She's not the complete monster I thought her to be just now.

"You did well," praises Nisa. "The swaying has worked. Maeve will be pleased with your progress. We might both be rewarded for today's results if you can maintain this behaviour."

I don't follow what Nisa means by swaying. I've been abused, degraded, and humiliated. My worst enemy has seen me debase myself before his lash. What's worse, I'll probably want a repeat of the experience before my training is over. I'm helpless and at Maeve's mercy. I'm losing my resolve to resist.

Food and water arrive a short while later. Nisa allows me to rest and use the toilet. More physical exercises conclude the day's training. I don't even think of resisting when Nisa demands that I kneel and bow before her when the day's training is done.

I'm rewarded by being locked in the cage rather than the box. As a special treat I'm given a thin mattress, although I'm warned that the privilege may be removed tomorrow if I backslide in my training. I lie down and count my few blessings. I'm free of the iron box. Maeve and Nisa seem pleased with my progress. And thanks to Cairn's whip I've experienced the most sensational orgasm I could imagine. I fall into a contented sleep.

It's dark when I wake. Something is wrong. My earlier contentment is replaced with a feeling of disgust. I realise that none of my feelings when I entered this cage were really mine. Nisa managed to use my distraction with my primal urges and Cairn's whip to find an opening into my source of magic. She's implanted some alien thoughts and beliefs into my mind. Only a few for the moment, but as each day passes, she'll widen that opening until Maeve can come along and force her entire set of values and beliefs into my mind. I must find a way to prevent it. But how? I never detected Nisa's violation of my mind until now. She only needs to use that spray again and I'll be equally helpless. Cairn's presence was only needed to distract me and prove to Nisa that she had succeeded in her attack. Had I been myself, then I'd never have thanked Cairn for his brutal treatment of my body.

I reach into my source of power. There's a tiny amount of new power there, but not enough to be useful. I try to locate the weak point where Nisa broke through my defences. Although I sense Nisa's invasion, there's no sign of where she entered. Invading another Fae's source of power is something I've never experienced before, although Rowan has talked about it from time to time. It's his stories that provide me with what little knowledge I have on the subject.

I lie there unable to go back to sleep. I must find a way to resist. I mustn't let Maeve defeat me. Once I'm in her thrall, then the wyrdkeys are as good as hers. I'm a living wyrdkey hunter. Some unique portion of my power enables me to track the wyrdkeys. I was given that power by some divine force for the sole purpose of crafting a new lock for the three wyrdkeys. A lock to what is anybody's guess. According to legend, doing so will render the wyrdkeys harmless, banish Erawan and his dark hordes forever, and kill me. I've no problem with the first two parts of my divine mission, but the last part hardly excites me.

The room where my cage is located is kept lit by six flaming torches around the walls. Fire. My birthright. I mentally reach out to touch the flames of the nearest torch. A silly act, really. If my real hand touched the torch, then the flames would burn me as much as they would anybody else. It's wildfire which is special. Magical fire. The fire which Maeve truly fears, but needs control over though me. Wildfire is what Erawan's demons are unable to resist. I exhausted my magical powers by destroying wave after wave of Erawan's hordes with my wildfire. It's a gift and a curse.

I mentally play with the torch. Not for any real purpose. Just an act to distract me from my predicament. The flame flickers when I probe it's appearance. A coincidence perhaps, but it reassures me that in time I won't be this helpless slave. I imagine blowing out the torch. To my surprise the torch struggles for a while before resuming its normal glow. Another coincidence? Probably. It can't be my influence. That's something which should be impossible while I'm wearing all this iron.

The next morning Nisa arrives with my breakfast. A more substantial meal than previously. It's probably intended as a reward for my good progress yesterday. Nisa has me complete my ablutions before commencing today's training. She has me lie down as she did yesterday. I sense her magic probing. This time it is clearly focussed on the exposed part of my face. I feel a slight surge of power and realise that she's reopened the tiny invisible channel that she succeeded in opening yesterday. I focus on what is happening. It's a clever trick. She is using my own power's need for renewal to force open a wide enough channel into my mind. It's through the opening that she can influence my values and beliefs. My own power betrays me. The tiny trickle of power Nisa is feeding into my own source is tricking it into widening the channel in search of a stronger flow of new power.

Suddenly I sense a link between our minds. Strangely its a two-way link, suggesting that I could influence Nisa's mind as much as she can influence mine. Does she realise this? Has she made a mistake through her ignorance of my rare ability to detect probing magic? I try touching her mind. I'm a complete novice at this and I don't want to alert her to my presence. I can't detect what Nisa is doing inside my mind, even though I know she's at work. At first I limit my intrusion to examining the structure of what I mentally see through the link. I perceive her mind like a huge library of books. Ordered in some fashion, but beyond my comprehension. I also see what I can only describe as an untidy pile of books blocking some of the others. Somehow I sense that this untidy pile represents the thoughts and beliefs imposed by Maeve on Nisa's mind. I mentally pick one of the imaginary books from the pile and examine it. I lack the skill to interpret its contents, but it has a feeling of wrongness. My reaction to the wrongness is to want to destroy it. A flicker of wildfire created by my mind reduces the imaginary book to ash. Fortunately, Nisa doesn't seem to notice. I retreat from exploring her mind further and focus on trying to protect mine.

A short while later our mental link abruptly breaks and Nisa withdraws from her probing. I check my source of power and find a new reserve of magic waiting there. Still too little to be of much use, but more than there was last night. I wait patiently for Nisa to give me a new order.

"Rise," she commands. Not an easy task in my heavy chains, but I manage to struggle to my feet.

"You must be thirsty. You may have a drink before we resume your training."

Nisa places two glasses on the platform beside my cage. One is full of water; the other is empty. I wait while Nisa lifts her skirt and pees into the empty glass. It soon overflows onto the floor. She places the glass next to the glass of water.

"Drink," she commands.

I can tell she is testing me. A stupid test, really. I reach forward and take my glass, downing the contents in a few gulps. Nisa smiles and tells me to clean up the mess on the floor. Inside I smirk at my cleverness. She won't fool me with such an obvious trick. No slave is allowed to drink pure water. A slave may only drink the golden nectar bestowed by a Lady or Lord. I've saved myself from further punishment by remembering that simple rule.

I don't protest when Nisa has me lie down in the iron box. My ankle chains are fastened to the box and the lid slid closed over me. I've no idea what I've done to deserve this punishment, but I don't doubt Nisa's wisdom in doing so. I lie there quietly recalling my recent lessons. The hand signals, the postures, the rules a slave must follow. These all seem so obvious to me now. How I must address my betters as Lord or Lady; never by their name, or by human terms such as master or mistress.

I relax and go into a light sleep. Different thoughts run rapidly through my mind. The faces of my friends and what they may be doing now. Rowan. Thoughts of Rowan enter my mind. Weird thoughts. Confusing thoughts. My husband. A male who knows me in the most intimate way possible. But that can't be right. No Lady or Lord has ever granted me permission to lie with a male. Certainly not to marry one. How can a slave be married? It's just not right.

Not right. Not right. Those two words keep echoing through my mind. Why? I feel as though I'm on the verge of understanding something fundamental, but it keeps eluding me. Frustrating. So frustrating. I can't tell if I'm awake or dreaming when I hear the sound of dragging chain. Noor. Yes, it must be Noor arriving with my next meal. But the hatch doesn't open, so I must have been dreaming. I'm awake now though. Moments later, more warm golden nectar sprays through the air holes and onto my face. I greedily drink what I can.

Nisa returns a few hours later and removes me from my box. She offers me food and we again go through the routine with the two glasses. I can't understand why she is so pleased when I select and drink from the correct glass. But I'm only a slave, so I've no right to question what pleases a Lady.

Nisa has me lie down again, and once more I feel a magic link built between us. The power she gifted to me this morning is hungry for more. For the first time I sense Nisa have a moment of panic as my power draws hungrily upon hers through our link. But Nisa manages to clamp down on the flow of power and restrict the channel to a trickle. I'm inside her mind as she is undoubtedly inside mine. This is wrong. A slave has no business looking inside a Lady's mind. But I can't resist my probing.

The part of Nisa's mind I perceive as a library is far more complex than I first imagined. I could explore better if the untidy pile of imaginary books was out of the way. I mentally pick them up one at a time and turn them into ash with my wildfire. In no time at all I've cleared the whole pile. I start to study the remaining books but our link is suddenly broken. I open my eyes and see Lady Nisa stagger back. She doesn't look well. It takes her a few moments to recover her senses.

"Stand," she commands. I comply as quickly as I can manage. "Wait there."

Lady Nisa rushes out of the room. I wait patiently. I'd like to use the toilet, but there is nobody about to ask for permission. I grit my teeth and clamp down on my bladder. I wait and wait. It's no good. I can't hold my bladder any longer. But I must. The punishment for disobedience is ten lashes. More if a Lord or Lady desire it. I try my best, but seconds later I'm standing in a large puddle of my own making. I stand quietly where Lady Nisa commanded. I don't dare to make any attempt to hide the disgraceful evidence of my wrongdoing.

Finally Lady Nisa returns with Lady Maeve by her side. Neither fails to notice the mess on the floor, but Lady Maeve seems more concerned with Lady Nisa than with me. I sense Lady Maeve's probing magic invading my defences. Again I sense a link forming, only this time between Lady Maeve and I. But Lady Maeve retreats quickly when she senses my source of power snatching at her abundant store.

"Hmmph," is Lady Maeve's initial response. "Your swaying as worked up to a point, Nisa. But we must now try another way to reinforce her submission. The human way. A much slower way, but we shall be patient. Her magic is too hungry for us to continue with the swaying. You are lucky she's encased in her irons. Otherwise she might have been able to sway your mind while you were swaying hers."

"As you command, Lady," replies Lady Nisa. "Shall I summon Cairn?"

"Let's ask the slave," says Lady Maeve. "Slave! What punishment do you deserve for this filth on the floor? Answer."

"Ten lashes of the whip, Lady," I reply. "More if you desire it."

"Summon Cairn, Nisa. Slave; clean this mess up while we wait."

Lady Nisa leaves and I shuffle off to the nearby chamber to carry out Lady Maeve's command. I secretly count my blessings that neither Lady Nisa nor Lady Maeve have noticed my tampering of Lady Nisa's mind. Such a crime would surely warrant the most severe punishment imaginable. It's only my fear of the consequences that prevents me from confessing my guilt to Lady Maeve.


	6. Confusion

6\. Confusion.

That night I lie in my cage feeling relaxed and content. It isn't something I should be feeling given my situation, but that's how it is. I again study the torches around the room. One of the torches hasn't been lit. The careless attendant will undoubtedly be punished if the oversight is discovered. I shouldn't be concerned about such a thing, but for some reason I am.

I mentally reach out to the unlit torch and imagine lighting it. I sit up suddenly when blue flames leap up from the torch. Flames which are so much brighter than those of the other torches. Wildfire. It's as well that most of Doranelle is made of stone, or the intense flame could start a fire. I watch the flame for a while, subtly changing its intensity and colour until it resembles the other torches. I've tried this trick before and now it seems to come naturally to me. Easy stuff, really, except my iron mask and fetters should make what I'm doing impossible.

If I can use wildfire, then does that mean I can use the rest of my magic? I reach down into my source of power. There's barely enough magic power in my reserves to do more than a few party tricks. I reach lower into myself; towards the place where wildfire resides. It's there! My wildfire has returned! But in what quantity? I don't know. The iron around me may have blocked my other magic returning, but wildfire obviously doesn't obey the same rules. But having wildfire at my disposal doesn't tell me what I should do with it.

This is where my mind has become so very confused. When I was on board the ship which brought me to Doranelle, I had a clear goal to achieve. Restore my wildfire and use it to defeat the Fae queen and her acolytes. Now I'm not so sure that it's the right thing to do. Over the last few days I've begun to understand and appreciate Maeve's position. The confusing thoughts which had worried me at first no longer trouble me. The sense of wrongness hasn't disappeared entirely, but it no longer disturbs my sleep. Lady Maeve may be cruel and selfish, but she's been the rightful queen of the Fae for centuries. So long that I doubt anybody can name the heir to her crown. Indeed, I could lay a distant claim to her throne. After all, my mother was a descendant of Maeve's sister, Mab. But I'm being ridiculous. No slave can become a queen.

My enforced stay in Doranelle has opened my eyes to the truth. Lady Maeve is not the monster I had believed her to be. Now that I appreciate her situation, I understand why, ten years ago, she refused to help protect the Fae living in Terrasen. I want to forgive her for that treachery but my lingering sense of wrongness hold me back.

The fresh marks on my back from Cairn's whip barely trouble me. When Lady Maeve ordered Cairn to whip me this afternoon, I didn't question the reason why, or the severity of the sentence. I realise now that my back is a blank canvas for him to paint with my blood. The pain I can endure, reminding me to try harder to please my rightful mistress, Lady Maeve. She must be pleased with my progress, as she afterwards ordered Lady Nisa to heal my back of the wounds inflicted by Cairn.

But Lady Nisa's attitude towards me changed as the day progressed. At first I thought I had done something wrong, but now I'm not so sure. She didn't hesitate to heal my wounds as soon as Lady Maeve commanded it. Indeed, she did more. She soothed the pain as well as seal the lacerations. She even wanted to erase the marks entirely, but Lady Maeve refused. Lady Nisa's work was so good that I managed my regular exercises around the annex and throne room without difficulty. I even ran short distances wearing my heavy restraints. I don't doubt I looked ridiculous, but I've no longer any reason to have pride or respect for my appearance.

Thoughts of Rowan enter my mind. Earlier I couldn't reconcile how Rowan could be my husband. He's a prince among the Fae, while I'm but a lowly slave. The answer is obvious now. It was my surrender to Lady Maeve which brought about my current slavery. I haven't always been a slave. What I don't understand is why that simple fact didn't occur to me before.

Rowan has every right to annul our marriage now I'm the property of Lady Maeve. I expect he will do so soon, if he hasn't done so already. A twinge of sadness ripples through my body. The memories of our sexual encounters starts me on the dangerous path of arousal. But I no longer fear being reduced to a state of total helplessness. Lady Maeve seems happy to allow me my fleeting moments of pleasure. It's all part of the pain and reward regime that she has prescribed. I've stepped so far down the path of depravity, that modesty, pride and self respect are fading memories. I'm but a beast to be put to work by my betters.

I bring myself to a heightened state of arousal, but these cravings are no longer a never ending spiral into helplessness. Memories of my experiences at the end of Cairn's whip achieve the desired result. Soon afterwards I fall into a peaceful sleep.

Lady Nisa wakes me very early the next morning. The high windows I can just see in the throne room show no sign of daylight. She unlocks my cage door and orders me to step onto the plinth. I quickly shake the sleep from my senses and look at her for her next command. She's clearly worried; it's as though something is seriously wrong.

She hands me a glass of clean water. I take hold of it, but I don't drink it. She's testing me again. Why? A slave can only drink the golden nectar of a Lord or Lady.

"Drink it, Aelin," she says. "Try to remember who are and what you need to do."

I look at her in disbelief. She called me by my old name. And she wants me to drink pure water. This is wrong. So very wrong. I give the signal to indicate I don't understand her order.

"Speak, Aelin," pleads Lady Nisa. "Remember who you are. You're the Queen of Terrasen."

Yes, I know who I was. But Lady Maeve took my name and title from me when she enslaved me. I'm confused. I mustn't disobey Lady Maeve's instructions. It's very wrong to do so. Why is Lady Nisa trying to make me disobey? My look of dismay causes Lady Nisa to try another tack.

"Lie down, slave," orders Lady Nisa.

I do so without hesitation. Again I sense her magic probing and in a matter of seconds she has the invisible channel open between us. I refuse to enter her mind. It was so wrong of me to do so before. I simply wait while she performs whatever task she intends to do. I sense my source of power trying to drain Lady Nisa's power. My power is rewarded with a much stronger flow than Lady Nisa allowed previously. Suddenly the link is broken. I look around me, feeling bewildered. What is happening? What is Nisa doing?

"I'm sorry for what I did before, Aelin," says Nisa. "I've done what I can to make amends, but there isn't time to do more. Try to forgive me."

Nisa doesn't expect me to reply, and she returns me to my cage. I lie down as she locks it again. I'm too bewildered by what is happening. My thoughts and feelings which were starting to become clearer yesterday, are once again all muddled and confused. I wait patiently for a few hours until Nisa returns at the usual time. She has me go through the normal morning routine of ablutions and breakfast. Maeve joins us a few minutes later.

Maeve promptly touches my exposed cheek and I sense her magical probing. She's doesn't linger, and closes the link between us before too much of her power is drained by mine.

"Answer my questions," says Maeve. "What is your name?"

"Slave, Lady," I reply.

"Whose slave?"

"Yours, Lady."

"Hmmm. Have you drunk from this glass?" asks Maeve, holding the glass of water Lady Nisa left during her earlier visit.

"No, Lady. It is forbidden for a slave to drink pure water."

"That's right. Now, would you like me to remove your chains?"

"Only if it pleases you to do so, Lady," I reply.

"Would you like to be reunited with Rowan? Would you like to feel his presence between your legs once again?"

"Only if it pleases you to allow it, Lady."

Maeve is studying my face intently when I give each answer. She's looking for any sign a falseness or trickery. The iron mask hides most of my face, but I don't underestimate her power. My eyes would betray me if I told a lie. Maeve ends the interview and orders me to lie down in the iron box. My ankle chains are fastened to the box, and the lid slid closed. I'm left to my own thoughts once more. Confusing thoughts. What did Maeve mean about a reunion with Rowan? I hope he hasn't been so foolish as to come to Doranelle. What could such a mission achieve? At best it would only confirm that I'm now Maeve's slave. At worst it would risk Rowan being placed in thrall to his former mistress once again.

As Queen of Terrasen, I accepted Maeve's terms of surrender. I'm bound by my word of honour as much as I'm bound by all this iron. Maeve allowed no condition in the terms of my surrender that protected my status as a free person. By now Maeve will have ensured that the terms of that surrender will be common knowledge. Lysandra's part in the deception shielding my absence from Erawan's spies might not be enough. Even if I escaped back to Terrasen, my people may no longer accept me as their queen. Some of those who benefit by the removal of my claim to the Terrasen throne would undoubtedly assist in my recapture and return. An escaped slave has no rights or protection against the claims of her rightful owner. Even my life is Maeve's to dispose of as she wishes.

More confusion racks through my mind. What am I to do? By rights I should accept my fate and submit willingly to my Lady's desires. But there's still a part of me which wants to continue fighting. To continue resisting Maeve's evil goals. I have a duty. Not one I volunteered to perform, but a duty nonetheless. My ability to summon and use wildfire exists for a specific purpose. A purpose I should not deny, no matter how much I dislike that purpose. It's as though I'm at a fork in the road. One path leads to my fiery death, which was apparently foretold many centuries ago. My duty. My responsibility. Thousands ... no, millions ... of people are relying on me doing my duty. The other path is much longer, and leads to an uncertain end. A life of servitude and degradation. Not just for me, but all those relying on me. My heart binds me to the first path; my honour to the second. But what meaning has honour to a slave?

For the next several weeks I follow the same daily routine. I spend each night in my iron box bound by my heavy chains. In the morning I'm taken out of my box and fed, exercised and allowed to wash and use the toilet. Then my chains are removed and I'm locked in my cage. My freedom from the chains is only so that I can clean and polish them. My mask, belt, collar, wrist and ankle fetters are cleaned each day as well ... at least, as best as I can manage unaided. After a midday meal I'm removed from my cage and my chains reattached. More exercises follow, which are concluded by Cairn laying twenty strokes of his lash across my back. I still refuse to give him the pleasure of seeing me plead for mercy. Unfortunately my resistance only encourages him to put greater effort into his strokes. Fortunately for me, Nisa uses her magic to seal the lacerations before returning me to my cage. However, Maeve has forbidden her from easing the pain. That is something I must endure in the hours that follow. Pain is very much a part of my training regime. After an evening meal I'm returned to my box.

I don't feel guilty when I allow memories of Rowan to arouse my sexual yearning. Nisa says that pleasure is also a key part of my training regime. Pain and pleasure, combined in the right mix allow my mind and body to blissfully ignore my predicament. Before long, pain and pleasure each become synonymous with the other. Cairn's lashes soon cause my loins to become damp. He's trained me to respond that way by smearing his whip with the male musk that makes me so helpless. He makes me smell his whip before he begins. Soon the mere sight of his whip has me wet with desire. Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain. Different sides of the same coin.

I've become accustomed to the boredom. The weight and restrictions of my mask and chains now seem natural to me. The sores on my wrists, neck and ankles from the iron shackles are only a minor inconvenience. As are the hours of pain I endure after Cairn's beatings. I realise that subconsciously I have accepted my fate. That I'm Maeve's slave to command. But a part of me periodically screams 'No!'.


	7. Duty and desire

7\. Duty and desire.

My year long experiences in the slave mines of Endovier taught me the futility of trying to reason why I am being made to do certain things. The only difference here is that my daily routine is a mixture of pleasure and pain. In Endovier it was a mixture of pain and even worse pain. I suppose Maeve has a different objective to that of the overseers of Endovier, but how she intends to achieve it is still beyond my understanding. But I'm only a slave and it isn't necessary for me to understand my betters.

Between them, Maeve and Nisa have trained me to the point where I feel lost if my routine of abuse and punishment is changed. I perform all my bodily functions to a timetable and I haven't soiled my box or cage in weeks. Gradually the daily routine is changing. During the day I wear the heavy chains less and less, although I don't resist when Nisa places them on me. The only time when I always wear the chains is when I'm locked in my iron box.

My mind is still confused between my desire to please my mistress, and my own lingering sense of duty and self worth. My treatment at the hands of Cairn have systematically degraded and humiliated me to the stage that I no longer refuse any act which is demanded of me. Cairn takes particular delight in trying to make me sink lower into the depths of depravity. Apart from my refusal to beg for mercy under his whip, I generally comply with his disgusting demands.

My biggest fear isn't for myself. It's for Rowan. I love Rowan, as I know he loves me. I desperately want him to be safe. Which means he needs to keep far away from Doranelle. Unfortunately the more I think about Maeve's actions, the more I realise that she's luring Rowan to Doranelle. No self respecting Fae male can stand idly aside while his mate is abused in the way Maeve is treating me. And word of my plight will undoubtedly have reached Rowan's ear. When Rowan does come, Maeve will put me on display like some marionette; to perform tricks to her command. Rowan will undoubtedly respond violently, just as I would if our situations were reversed. Doing so will expose him to being placed in thrall to Maeve once again. As strong and powerful as Rowan may be, his magic is no match for what Maeve has at her command.

I lose count of the days and weeks since my surrender. Eight weeks at least, possibly as many as ten. For the sake of relieving my boredom, I experiment with my wildfire when I'm locked inside my box. Before long I realise that I can do a lot more with my wildfire than create huge blasts of flame and destruction. My earlier trick with the unlit torch is only a sample of the more delicate uses of wildfire that I now practice. I'm immune to the flames created by wildfire, but I need to be careful of the consequences of the heat it generates. I can make pretty patterns of different coloured wildfire along the links of my chains, but accidentally welding the links together would cause me problems. A more practical use of wildfire provides me with light at night if I start to feel claustrophobic. Fortunately that's very rare, but my mind is always active despite my predicament. Occasionally my line of thought triggers unusual feelings and emotions.

Nisa never again tries the magic linking she and Maeve call swaying. Consequently I haven't probed my own mind in that way since that strange occurrence when Nisa seemed to want to free me from something. I'm therefore surprised when my experiments with my wildfire lead me to sense a wrongness inside my mind. It's the same wrongness I sensed inside Nisa's mind when I turned the imaginary books into ash. I do the same trick to the wrongness I detect inside me.

At first I don't notice any difference, but after a while I realise my willingness to submit to Maeve's demands is much weaker. My thoughts are much more like those I had on the journey here to Doranelle. Wildfire has destroyed the thoughts imposed on my mind by Nisa at Maeve's command. Perhaps that's what I did to Nisa when I used that touch of wildfire on her mind.

Unfortunately my improved state of mind doesn't make my physical situation any better. Cairn is still as obnoxious and brutal as ever. My body responds the way it does because of the physical rather than the magical abuse I receive. I no longer accept what is done to me as being the lawful exercise of a slave owner's rights, but I'm in no position to protect myself. I'm not foolish enough to attempt to blindly use my wildfire in the presence of so many magic wielders.

Then the inevitable happens. Rowan arrives in Doranelle. He doesn't bother trying to sneak into the city. It would have been foolish in any case. Maeve would soon discover any attempt at subterfuge. As I anticipated Maeve readily grants Rowan an audience. I'm kept in the next room, locked in my iron box, for the whole meeting. Afterwards, he's allowed to talk with me through the air holes in the lid to my box. His meeting with Maeve has been unsuccessful. No surprise there. He can offer me no words of reassurance, and he refuses my pleas for him to leave Doranelle while he can. I know what he will try to do next. Unfortunately Maeve undoubtedly knows as well.

I'm kept in my box the whole day. Once more food arrives through the hatch in the box. What I now refuse to call golden nectar arrives through the air holes. How on earth did I ever convince myself that drinking it was okay. It was an imposed thought which I'm certainly glad to say good riddance. I eat the food, but refuse to drink. I do my best not to soil my box, but I'm confined for so long that I can't help it.

To my acute embarrassment Rowan is standing next to Nisa and Maeve when my box is opened the next day. I quickly hide my embarrassment. It would be a sure sign to Maeve that her hold over me has weakened. Nisa detaches the ankle chains holding me in place. I wait patiently until I'm ordered to get out of the box.

"Filthy, disgusting slave," sneers Maeve when she sees the state of my box. "Clean it up at once. Nisa; fetch Cairn so that he can administer the correct punishment."

"Wait," calls Rowan. "I came here in good faith to plead for my wife's freedom. You will treat her with respect while we negotiate the terms for her release."

"I will treat her exactly as I want to treat her, Prince Rowan," snaps Maeve. "She surrendered herself to me on the shores of Eyllwe. She's my slave and will be until her dying breath. Our so-called negotiations ended yesterday. You may say goodbye to my slave ... once she's received her punishment for soiling her box. Then you will depart Doranelle or suffer the consequences."

I obey Maeve's command and go to the side chamber to fetch what I need to clean my box. I don't see what happens next but when I return I see Rowan being restrained by two of Maeve's guards. Four more guards are standing ready around the room. Rowan is spoiling for a fight, but against such odds he'll never win. I clean my box under the stare of all these eyes. By the time I have finished, Nisa and Cairn have returned. Cairn is practically drooling at the prospect of laying his lash over my back. He missed out yesterday because I was confined to my box all day.

"Slave; stand on the plinth facing your cage," orders Maeve. "Spread your legs and hold the bars. Forty lashes, Cairn. You may begin when you are ready."

I can only guess that Maeve has ordered me into this position to provide Rowan with a better view. She wants him to witness my already raw back being reduced to a bloody mess. It certainly isn't my normal position to receive punishment. It inconveniences Cairn, since he must stand on the edge of the plinth to line up for his stroke. One false step and he'll stumble off the plinth. But Maeve is more concerned about the spectacle she has deliberately engineered for the purpose of humiliating Rowan. Humiliating me is so commonplace now that I sense she is already bored at the sight. Only Cairn seems to find my repeated humiliation as a constant source of delight.

Cairn lays his first stroke across my back. In terms of the pain generated and the damage done, it's a long way short of what he is capable of delivering. His tricky position on the edge of the plinth is causing him problems.

"One," I call.

Although I resisted counting the strokes on the beach in Eyllwe, I no longer bother with such a small token of resistance. Besides, once Nisa had tampered with my mind, I actually believed that my punishment was right and proper, and that I must play my part in the performance. Refusing to count now would only alert Maeve to a weakening of her hold over me.

Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The strokes land in succession and I call out the number. I can't see Rowan, so I can only imagine his mounting rage. Forty strokes is a lot, and to be honest I've never gone above twenty two without faltering in my count. I feel the blood trickling down my back and over my buttocks. I just hope Nisa will be allowed to seal my lacerations afterwards.

The seventh stroke doesn't arrive when I expect it. The pain in my back is already enough to make me start feeling weak and dizzy. It takes me a few moments to realise that Maeve has paused the proceedings and is walking towards me with the dreaded spray that will reduce me into helplessness and wanton debauchery. Rowan must realise the purpose of the spray and tries to break free of the two guards restraining him.

"Use that spray and I'll kill you, Maeve," warns Rowan with far more bravado than common sense.

Maeve just laughs and promptly sprays an extra large quantity into my face. In a few minutes I'll be at her complete mercy, and start performing the most lewd acts in front of my audience despite Cairn's lash. I must act now.

Wildfire erupts around me. The wooden plinth is a ready source of fuel which promptly ignites. Both Maeve and Cairn are surrounded by my fire. Cairn quickly jumps off the plinth but his clothes are already on fire. The guards ignore Cairn and rush to protect Maeve. Their actions are both unnecessary and a mistake. Maeve is the only person in the room capable of putting up any form of defence against my wildfire. The guards' reaction means that Rowan is left unattended. He promptly seizes a weapon from an unsuspecting guard and advances on Cairn as he writhes in flames on the floor.

I move my attention to Maeve. Her instincts for self preservation are good. She throws up a magical barrier the second she detects the presence of my wildfire. But wildfire isn't regular magic. Maeve's magical defence isn't as effective as she might have hoped. The flames may not be able to reach her but the heat certainly can. She staggers under the rising temperature. Finally she concedes ground and leaps onto the stone floor of the annex. Her guards stumble back as my wildfire reaches towards them. I've no wish to kill them, but I don't want them interfering with my battle with Maeve. They seem to understand my intent, and for the moment seem happy to comply with my wishes.

Maeve cast spell after spell towards me. I deflect each one in turn. My wildfire creates an almost impenetrable magic barrier, and what little gets through is absorbed by the iron encasing me. The very thing which prevents me using my regular magic is also weakening Maeve's magic being used against me. Maeve and I soon reach a stalemate. Neither of us able to defeat the other with magic alone. Cairn lies dead on the floor. Whether as a result of my wildfire or thanks to Rowan's blade is difficult to tell at the moment. Rowan, Nisa and Maeve's guards stand frozen around the perimeter of the room. I don't doubt that at least one of the guards will have the intelligence to summon reinforcements. Sure enough more soldiers and some spectators soon arrive.

Maeve and I stand looking at each other. I've dampened my wildfire for the moment. I've plenty still in reserve, but there's no point is wasting it. I sense that Maeve is trying to quickly recharge her magic. She must have hurled enormous amounts of magical power at me, and she's clearly worried that it proved ineffective.

"A truce, Aelin," says Maeve, calling me by my name for the first time in weeks. She's definitely worried about what has occurred. Perhaps she's finally conceding that she can't overcome my resistance.

"Truce," I reply, recognising I'm equally powerless to force a victory. "What do you propose we do now?"

"None of your trickery, Maeve," warns Rowan.

"To let the people of Doranelle decide between us," replies Maeve, not responding to Rowan's warning. "Either to declare you to be my slave, or to set you free. Do you agree to be bound by their decision?"

"It's a trap," snaps Rowan.

Of course it's a trap. But for once, a predictable one.

"I agree," I reply. "Summon your people and let them decide."

Rowan looks at me in disbelief. Even Nisa seems alarmed at my decision. Maeve can hardly believe her luck and she wastes no time in issuing the necessary orders. Nisa rushes to my side to heal my bleeding back. Rowan wants to come to me as well, but I signal for him to wait. I don't want him to look too closely at me and see how uncontrollably aroused I've become under the influence of Maeve's spray. Strangely my heightened state of sexual desire helped me during my duel with Maeve. It meant that raw instinct replaced considered thought, and ultimately it was instinct which protected me from Maeve's magical assault.

Maeve is far from defeated. She demands that I attend the gathering weighed down with all my iron chains and fetters. Rowan starts to protest, but I tell him to save his energy for battles which can be won. Two hours later I stand next to Maeve in front of hundreds of Fae. Maeve senses her moment of triumph is at hand.


	8. Secrets

8\. Secrets.

Maeve addresses her subjects at great length. She explains her justification for my enslavement. Great emphasis is placed on the terms of my surrender to her on the shores of Eyllwe. To hear her talk, my humiliation and enslavement is not only lawful and just, but has been preordained by some unnamed deity. She goes on and on. Which suits me fine. My future isn't going to depend on words. It's going to depend on the subtle use of my wildfire.

Finally she allows me my turn to speak. I try my best to speak loudly through the constraints of the iron mask. Although the mask permits me to open my mouth, it restricts my ability to open it wide in order to talk loudly. Many of the audience will have difficulty hearing my words. Rowan requests that Maeve remove my mask, but she steadfastly refuses. According to her I am her slave until such time I am granted my freedom. Her manner and tone suggests any Fae who votes in my favour is likely to meet with an early and painful end.

I complete my speech. It's not the most inspiring speech I've ever made, but I'm not trying to inspire these Fae. I simply want them do is understand the truth and decide what is right. They listen and then they vote. The result is clear and unambiguous. Maeve looks at me in complete bewilderment. Apart from Maeve and her inner circle of acolytes, every single Fae present votes for my release.

The outcome of the vote is the least of Maeve's problems, although I doubt she realises it just yet. I've used tiny bits of my wildfire to destroy Maeve's imposed thoughts on each and every Fae present. Their thoughts are their own for the first time in decades and their attitude towards Maeve is far from friendly. When she made her speech, Maeve was assuming she was simply playing to their enforced loyalty. Instead, her speech only strengthened her subjects' new found determination to resist her. Unfortunately, my victory over Maeve will only be temporary. In time she will be able to regain her mental hold over all her subjects. But it will take time, and for now only Maeve and a few of her closest supporters remain a barrier to my freedom. A small but nonetheless formidable barrier.

"Release my wife from her chains," demands Rowan of Maeve.

Maeve is still trying to work out what when wrong with such a simple plan. To her credit she recovers quickly. Her few remaining loyal retainers gather around her. These Fae need no imposed thoughts to remain loyal to their queen. Each has sworn a blood oath to Maeve. They will happily die if necessary in order to defend her from any enemy.

"I did not agree to be bound by the advice of my subjects," snarls Maeve. "A Fae queen rules by divine authority. The opinion of her subjects is of no consequence."

"Release Aelin, and we shall allow you to remain ruler here in Doranelle," says Rowan. "Our only condition is that you send your army to add to those who are already fighting Erawan."

"You forget your place, Prince Rowan," snaps Maeve, obviously confident that she can still win despite all her setbacks today.

She launches a magical attack directed at Rowan. He responds quickly before any real damage is done. But Maeve's superior power will eventually break through his defences. The iron encasing me prevents me from using my own magical power ... except wildfire. Maeve knows I won't stand idly by while Rowan is in peril. But I hold back my attack for a moment, and think. For some reason Maeve is trying to trick me into using the might of my wildfire in the presence of all her subjects. Would the sight of such awesome power intimidate her subjects into rallying behind their queen? Possibly. They wouldn't willingly swap one all-powerful queen for another.

Again my night time practising inside my iron box pays dividends. I call on my wildfire as Maeve intends that I should, but not as an enormous blast of flame. Instead I create multi-coloured wisps of flame which flit about around Maeve's face. Beautiful lights which are relatively harmless. Each flame last for only a few seconds before being replaced by another one of a different colour and intensity. The effect confuses Maeve into miscasting her magic. Rowan takes advantage of Maeve's preoccupation and moves from defence to attack.

Maeve's guards move to intervene, but a wave of heat from an invisible blast of my wildfire forces them to retreat. One of the guards realises that his queen is in more difficulty than she can confidently manage, and he steps forward to go to her aid. He pays for his brave but foolish act with severe burns to his body. He collapses onto the floor and one of his colleagues drags him clear.

"Surrender, Maeve," demands Rowan. "Surrender and retain your crown."

Maeve has become desperate. Against Rowan or I alone she could prevail, but not against both of us together. She must now realise that my control of wildfire is far more extensive than she thought possible. Too late she realises that my iron fetters don't hinder my wildfire. She misunderstood the true nature of wildfire. Even I have only started to appreciate the complexities of its power. It's far more than a blunt weapon of destruction. Both Maeve and I had initially made that false assumption. It's fortunate for me that I was the first to realise our mutual mistake.

"Very well, Prince Rowan," snarls Maeve. "I shall concede today's battle to you. I surrender on condition that you honour my position as the rightful queen of the Fae."

"You are queen of Doranelle," says Rowan. "Aelin is the rightful queen of those Fae living in Terrasen."

Maeve still tries her trickery as Rowan and she negotiate the terms of peace. My freedom is a prerequisite, and Maeve reluctantly releases me from the terms of my surrender in Eyllwe and orders Nisa to free me from my bondage. Nisa takes me back to the annex and proceeds to unlock my chains. It takes a while. The locks are stiff and Nisa spends most of the time with tears streaming down her face, clouding her vision. I want to ask her what is wrong, but I'm so keen to be free of these chains once more, that I don't want to do anything to interrupt her painfully slow progress.

The iron mask is the last item to be removed. Nisa unfastens the small bolts which hold the mask in place. I take hold of the mask and admire it's sinister artwork. No ... that's not true. The artwork isn't sinister. It's delicate and well crafted. It's the purpose for which the mask has been used which was sinister. As a piece of art, the mask is beautiful. I briefly stop my examination of the mask to look at Nisa, who has now prostrated herself on the ground before me.

"What are you doing, Nisa?" I ask.

"Awaiting your judgement, Lady" replies Nisa. "I only ask that you spare my mother, Noor."

I haven't seen Noor in weeks. Not since my first arrival in Doranelle. To be honest I didn't even think about her when she no longer appeared. I was preoccupied with other matters.

"You haven't committed any crime for me to pass judgement over," I reply. "Nor has your mother. Where is Noor? I haven't seen her in weeks."

"I've committed many crimes against you. I invaded your mind. I had you beaten by Cairn. I helped Maeve and Cairn degrade and humiliate you. My only defence is that I had to do it to protect my mother. Meave had her locked in the dungeon while I was training you."

"Then go and find her to make sure she is safe. Have her freed from the dungeon. If any guard refuses to free Noor then let Rowan or I know."

"Yes, Lady. Thank you, Lady," says Nisa as she scrambles to her feet.

"Call me Aelin, not Lady," I reply. "Return here with some clothes for me when you've made sure your mother is safe. I think I will need some help walking until I get used to being without the weight of my shackles."

Nisa leaves at once. I practise moving about while I wait. By the time Nisa returns I can at least walk a few paces unaided. But I want to go to Rowan, and I'll need help to make it that far. Nisa brings an assortment of clothes and she helps me choose a suitable outfit. It feels strange walking about in clothes after being naked for so long.

Part of me wants to leave Doranelle as quickly as possible, but another part tells me not to run like a frightened rabbit from Maeve's citadel. Besides, Rowan insists that I firstly recover from the physical effects of my captivity before undertaking the long journey back to Terrasen. I soon adjust to the absence of the weight of my fetters. My back still bears the marks of Cairn's whip, although the scars are no more unsightly that those left by the overseers of Endovier. Most of the new scars simply obliterated older ones. Like the scars on my back, the mental scars will probably never leave me entirely. It will take me many months, if not years, to quell the memories of my degradation. But I overcame the nightmares that haunted me after my time in Endovier. In time I shall undoubtedly overcome those acquired here; assuming my divine mission doesn't end my life sooner.

Maeve proves to be remarkably cooperative and helpful. I don't trust her for a moment, but at least she makes no attempt to renew our hostilities. I suspect she needs more time to work out a new plan. I don't believe for a moment that she's given up her goal to acquire the three wyrdkeys. She'll come up with a new scheme in due course, and I don't doubt it will involve me. For now, she needs to focus on securing her throne and easing the unrest among her subjects. The Fae are understandably unhappy about Maeve's invasion of their minds.

Rowan orders that the iron box, chastity belt, chains and shackles be melted down to prevent them from ever being used again. He leaves me for a while so that he can make sure his orders are carried out. He would have included the iron mask had I not asked him to save it. I hope I'm not making a mistake, but I wish to keep the mask. Not as some weird memento, but because the intricate wrought ironwork deserve a better fate than being melted down as revenge for Maeve's actions.

Rowan is gentle with me the first time we share our bed together since my release. He seems frightened to touch me in case I fall apart in his arms. But I soon correct him on that subject. My mounting sexual desire demands that he treat me with all the physical dominance a Fae male can exert during mating. I've become hungry for the physical effects that Fae couplings produce. Cairn's brutality has only helped me to appreciate Rowan's natural prowess, and I encourage Rowan to use all his strength and power to claim what I willingly offer him. At first he is tentative in his use of my body. However, that soon changes when he realises that not only am I wanting, but actually demanding, him to serve my sexual needs. I'm in no mood to tolerate second best.

We fall into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of the morning. I'm still not used to sleeping without the weight of my chains, so my sleep is disturbed by dreams. Fortunately they are dreams rather than nightmares. I wake in the half light of dawn to realise Rowan and I aren't alone in this chamber. I move to wake Rowan, who is snoring his head off, when I recognise our visitor. She's not a welcome visitor, nor is she still of this world. Elena. My long dead ancestor, and the last known descendant of Mala to have been able to use wildfire.

"What do you want?" I ask her ghostly form.

"I just came to congratulate you, Aelin. You've succeeded in recovering Mala's mask. Learn the rest of its secrets and you will achieve your divine mission."

"What do you mean? I didn't even know the mask held secrets."

"But it does; and you've learned more about controlling wildfire as a result. When Maeve stole the mask many years ago, she believed it to be a weapon to restrict Mala's descendants from using their power. It's nothing of the sort. Mala created the mask to teach her offspring how to use and control wildfire."

"So this was all part of my preordained divine mission?"

"So it seems. The future is never certain and no action or event can be predicted with certainty. But you are now a step closer to achieving your goal. Erawan and his demons must be banished forever. The alternative will be ten time worse than the suffering you endured here in Doranelle. Remember the pain from Cairn's whip and Maeve's shackles and you will remember the consequences of failure."

Elena disappears without any further words. I slip into a fitful sleep,

A few days later, Rowan finally decides I'm fit enough to travel. I suspect the timing of his decision has more to do with mental exhaustion from satisfying my sexual demands. Fortunately there's no sign of any physical exhaustion. There's a long journey ahead of us, so he's not going to escape that easily.

Our delay in Doranelle at least enables Rowan to obtain fresh information about Erawan's movements. My absence from the ongoing battle hasn't been generally noticed outside of Doranelle. Lysandra's deception has worked as we had hoped. A quick overland journey to the nearest port and a fast ship to Terrasen are all that we need to put this whole episode behind us.

[the end]


End file.
